Finally, after they found out about every dish, ordered what they wanted and demanded a basket of rolls, the waitress left.
I resumed my inquisition. ‘Okay, fess up ladies. What do you have planned? How are you going to figure out if Tony Murano is our clog-wearing killer?’
‘Why we have to look at his feet, of course.’ Millie fluffed out her napkin and deposited it in her lap with a flourish.
‘And just how do you propose that?’ I asked.
‘Oh, don’t worry dear, we know how to get an audience with the chef.’ Mom looked over the edge of her water glass at me, her eyes sparkling with delight.
‘How do you do that?’
‘Why we complain about the meals, of course.’ Millie looked at me as if I was daft. ‘Shhh… here they come.’
The waitress deposited the plates on the table and we tucked in. Millie and mom both felt sorry for me and insisted I try theirs. It was delicious.
‘I don’t see how you can complain about this food, it’s delish,’ I mumbled around a mouthful of lasagna.
‘Oh no? Millie passed the glass of a light Pilsner she’d ordered to Mom. ‘Hold my beer.
‘Oh miss. Miss…’ Millie flapped her hands in the air to summon the waitress who hurried over with a frown on her face.
‘Can I help you?’
Millie pushed her plate away from her. ‘This veal is as tough as shoe leather!’ Never mind that she’d eaten almost all of it.
The waitress looked at the plate skeptically. ‘I’m so sorry, can I get you something else?’
Millie folded her arms over her chest. ‘Certainly not. I’d like to see the chef.’
‘I’m sorry, but chef Murano doesn’t leave the kitchen.’ The waitress looked a little scared but I wasn’t sure if it was of Millie or chef Murano. If rumors of Murano’s temper were true, it was likely of him. All the more reason to suspect him of the murder.
Millie harrumphed. She sat up straight, her eyes shooting daggers at the waitress. ‘But I insist. Nothing will make this better except a visit from chef Murano himself. I demand to see him.’
The waitress’ eyes narrowed slightly as if she was going to call Millie’s bluff, but she must have thought better of it because she simply said, ‘I’ll see if he’s available,’ before scurrying off.
Millie’s scowl turned into a smile. She grabbed the beer from Mom and took a swig. ‘See. Works every time.’
Millie’s gloating was short lived. The waitress came back wearing an apologetic look.
‘Chef Murano is busy in the kitchen. He said to offer a free dessert.’
‘Free dessert?’ Millie said loudly, her voice incredulous. ‘That’s no compensation.’
People were starting to stare and the waitress looked antsy. ‘We can take your meal off the bill…’
Millie shot up from her seat. ‘No. None of that will do. I need to talk to chef Murano. Which way to the kitchen.’
‘You can’t go in th—’
But Millie was already marching toward the steel doors that clearly led to the kitchen, casting a follow-me glance over her shoulder at us.
Mom tossed her napkin on the table and slid out of the booth. ‘Guess we should follow her.’
The kitchen was a flurry of activity and a chaos of smells. Pots clanged, sous chefs rushed around plating salads and putting dollops of whipped cream on desserts. In the middle, Tony Murano stood in front of a steel table. He was tall with dark hair, a five o’clock shadow on his chin – though it was only 1:30 – and hairy knuckles. Perhaps I noticed the knuckles because they were clutched around a cleaver that he held high in the air. The florescent lighting glinted off the blade as it sliced down toward the table.
Thwack!
Mom, Millie and I all jumped as the cleaver cut through the side of beef that had been lying on the table.
‘Oh!’ Mom gasped.
Tony’s eyes jerked from the beef to Mom, then me, then Millie. His face darkened. ‘What are you doing in here?’
Millie marched to the other side of the table. I could see her trying to peek over to see what he had on his feet but she was too short. ‘I would like to complain about my veal.’
Tony’s eyes narrowed. The cleaver glinted. ‘Look lady, there’s nothing wrong with the veal. I tasted it myself. I think you’re just trying to weasel out of paying the bill.’
‘I certainly am not!’ Millie stomped her foot then tried to peek around the corner of the table. ‘I just wanted you to… umm…’ She turned around and looked at us.
‘Admit that the meal was subpar.’ Mom came to her rescue.
‘Subpar? Who are you people? Food critics? I don’t like food critics.’ Tony raised the cleaver and we all took a step back.
The sous chefs had stopped working and were watching the argument.
‘We are not food critics.’ Millie started around the corner of the table, glancing back at us with a knowing look. ‘We’re just little old ladies trying to get a good meal. Social security only goes so far you know, and we need to get good value for our money. But more importantly, we want you young people to have the manners to admit when something isn’t good.’
Tony was looking at Millie like she was a three-day-old salad. Clearly he didn’t want to be on the same side of the table as her because he side-stepped away.
‘Listen lady, you need to leave.’
Millie pressed her lips together. Clearly this tactic wasn’t working. ‘Well maybe a handshake then and we’ll call it a day?’
She started toward him but Tony held up the cleaver, stopping her.
A door in the back of the kitchen burst open. A woman stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the intruders in the kitchen. She glanced from Tony to Millie to Mom, her eyes widened when they got to me.
She looked furious as she turned to Tony. ‘What’s going on in here? Who is she?’ She jabbed her finger in my direction.
Tony scowled. ‘I don’t know, honey. They burst in here demanding I apologize because they didn’t like their dinners.’
The woman, Tony’s wife or girlfriend apparently, looked like she didn’t believe him.
While Tony was distracted with this woman, Millie sidled over to the other side of the table. She craned her neck looking down in the direction of Tony’s feet. Her eyes widened and she glanced over at us nodding her head in an exaggerated manner. Honestly, she couldn’t have been less subtle.
Luckily, Tony was no longer paying attention to us. He was busy arguing with the woman who was now standing in front of him, her hands fisted on her hips.
‘Well I certainly hope that this hussy here isn’t trying to get your attention.’ She jerked her head in my direction. Hussy?
I raised my hand. ‘Uhh… I just came with them. I don’t want anyone’s attention.’
The woman got in Tony’s face. ‘Is that right? Maybe she came here thinking I wasn’t in and she could have you all to herself.’
Tony took a few steps back. ‘No dear, that’s not it at all.’ He swaggered away from the woman toward us. When I say swaggered, I don’t mean in an old-fashioned cowboy way. I mean that he had a funny way of walking on the sides of his feet. Just like the clog print we’d found in the bark mulch.
Continuing with her subtle methods, Millie gasped and pointed at his feet. Luckily Tony still wasn’t paying attention. I mean, he did have a cleaver in his hand.
Millie scurried over to us and grabbed Mom by the elbow. ‘Well, looks like our business here is resolved.’
Tony scowled at her, the cleaver glinting off the light. ‘What do you mean, lady? I thought you were mad about your meal and wanted some kind of lame apology. Which you aren’t getting.’
‘No worries, I can see you have good intentions.’ She tugged Mom toward the door. ‘So all’s good then. See you later!’
And with that Millie turned and dragged Mom out of the double doors.
I had just enough time to throw some money on the table for the bill a
nd a tip and meet them outside on the sidewalk.
Millie was already halfway down the street, her heels clacking on the sidewalk. ‘Well I guess that settles it, Tony Murano was wearing the clogs and he walks on the sides of his feet. He’s the killer!’
Twelve
‘Anybody want the crusty garlic bread?’ Harry asked from his perch on the edge of the dumpster.
‘I do,’ Juliette said.
Nero watched as Harry used his tail for balance while reaching one orange striped paw into the dumpster to skewer the garlic bread, which he flipped to Juliette, who pounced on it.
A piece of newspaper drifted out and fluttered to the ground. Nero noticed it was the food section. ‘I hope there are no reviews in that paper from Charles Prescott.’
‘Like the one the police found in the victim’s room?’ Harry tossed out a cheeseburger and Poe claimed it as his own.
‘Yes and we also made another review discovery last night,’ Nero said.
‘Do tell?’ Boots wiped some marinara off his whiskers and sat on his haunches.
‘Well, I think we finally made a breakthrough with Josie,’ Nero said.
‘It took her a while to get our drift though.’ Marlowe looked up from the remains of the shrimp scampi she was chowing down.
‘Some humans can be a little slower than others,’ Juliette said. ‘Father Tim took a long time to get on the same wavelength, but I think he’s coming along fine. Don’t give up on Josie.’
Nero and Marlowe exchanged a glance. ‘Oh, we won’t. In fact, last night we were able to guide her toward something very interesting on the Internet.’
‘What?’ Boots asked.
‘It was actually Josie who instigated it, she’s not so bad after all. I think she has some smarts,’ Marlowe said. ‘She was looking for reviews for the Smugglers Bay Inn thinking that Stella Dumont might be mixed up in this.’
The cats all nodded. ‘Yeah, she could be a killer.’
‘No, she’s too stupid,’ Harry said.
‘Sometimes they only play stupid and they’re really crafty,’ Stubbs added.
‘Would you let them tell us what they discovered?’ Poe asked.
‘It was a review for this very restaurant,’ Marlowe licked scampi sauce off her nose.
‘The Marinara Mariner?’ Juliette asked.
Nero nodded. ‘Indeed, it seems Charles did not like a pie that he was served here.’
Juliette scrunched her nose up. ‘Was it the lemon meringue? It is very tart.’
‘Yes, I agree.’ Harry hopped down from the dumpster with a slab of eggplant.
‘Well that is very interesting.’ Boots’ whiskers twitched.
Harry swished his tail. ‘Tony had the saffron special the other night and saffron was smelled on the clogs outside the window.’
‘Are you sure it was saffron that you smelled?’ Poe asked Marlowe.
‘I don’t know, I never smelled saffron,’ Marlowe answered.
‘Me either,’ Nero added.
‘Hold on,’ Harry jumped up on the rim of the dumpster and leapt right in. The sides clanged as he rummaged around, jumping out with a small napkin in his mouth. He dropped it in front of Marlowe. ‘There’s a little bit on the napkin.’
Marlowe and Nero looked down to see an orange smudge. They sniffed. Nero’s eyes widened. It was the smell. ‘That’s it all right.’
‘Well there you have it,’ Stubbs said. ‘Tony got a bad review. Tony’s footprint was outside the window of the room where Charles was murdered. Sounds like a wrap to me.’
‘You think that dame I followed here has anything to do with it?’ Stubbs asked.
‘Tina?’ Juliette asked. ‘Probably just a coincidence. I mean, lots of people eat in the restaurant.’
‘Probably. And I admit that all of this with Tony sounds suspicious, but what about that old couple, the Weatherbys?’ Harry said. ‘I followed them around just like we suggested and you’ll never guess where they went.’
‘Where?’
‘Right up to the gulls’ nests. They were practically crawling in them.’
‘Why would they do that?’ Stubbs asked.
‘Birdwatchers. Some of them can be quite eccentric,’ Poe said. ‘But it makes me wonder. Charles was up on the cliff. The Weatherbys were up on the cliff. The gulls are up on that cliff. Could the gulls have something to do with Charles’s death and it’s not about a bad review? And if so, why was Tony’s footprint outside the murder room?’
When we got back to the guesthouse, the guests were either out or in their rooms, which was a good thing because Millie couldn’t stop blabbering about Tony and his cleaver.
‘He could’ve whacked any one of us right there in the kitchen!’ Her words echoed through the foyer as she dug out her phone.
‘I hardly think he would’ve done that in front of all the witnesses,’ Mom said.
‘Either way, I’m getting Seth to come right over and we can tell him about our interrogation.’ Millie dialed and put the phone to her ear.
‘I’d hardly call it an interrogation,’ I said. I was nervous about what Seth might say. Would he be mad that we went there? Would he feel threaten that we’d tried to do his job? But it was a little suspicious that Tony wore clogs and walked on the sides of his feet. It would seem to indicate that the print matched, but how reliable was a print in bark mulch? I could already picture Seth pointing out that any number of weather conditions could’ve altered the print. If the bark was too moist maybe his feet sank at a different angle. It was hardly conclusive. Then again, we had the bad review to back us up.
‘I need you to come over right away. I know who the killer is!’ Millie yelled into the phone. Unfortunately, she did this just at the Weatherbys were coming in.
Iona gasped. ‘Did she just say she knows who the killer is?’
Ron fumbled his camera, practically falling down the last three steps. ‘How would you know and not the police?’
‘We’re really not sure.’ I tried to usher them toward the stairs before Millie started talking about cleavers and chopping people up. ‘We think we might have some clues based on something we found here at the guesthouse.’
Iona’s hands flew to her face and she and Ron exchanged a glance. ‘Oh dear, it’s not someone staying here is it?’
‘No, it’s someone else,’ I assured them. Clearly they were very nervous about having a killer in their midst. I felt a little guilty about suspecting them earlier.
Their relief was obvious. Iona took Ron’s arm and propelled him toward the stairs. ‘Well that is a relief. Let’s go change and have a nice afternoon of birdwatching. The sun is out and the birds are twittering and if you’re catching a killer, all the better!’
It took Seth Chamberlain only ten minutes to arrive on the scene.
He looked at Millie skeptically and she explained everything that had happened in Tony’s restaurant.
‘And just how did you come about going to the Marinara Mariner?’ he asked. His arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a disapproving scowl on his face, even though his eyes turned soft as marshmallows whenever he looked at Millie.
‘Because of the review, of course.’ Millie glanced at me.
‘I found a review that Charles had written on the lemon meringue pie at the Mariner last year and it wasn’t very good,’ I explained.
The furrow between Seth’s brows deepened. ‘Last year? Why would Tony kill him now?’
‘Maybe he just found out that Charles was in town?’ Mom suggested.
‘Seems highly unlikely. Why would he carry a grudge all this time? Not to mention that he’d have to come all the way over to the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, sneak inside and then kill Charles.’ Seth shook his head, his eyes cutting over to me. ‘Nope, it seems more likely that the person he was writing that review about found it in his room. They probably ripped it up before they killed him. And it seems more feasible that someone here would be the killer.’
That made me a litt
le mad. Up until now I was cutting Seth some slack. I mean, he was a friend of Mom and Millie’s and he seemed like a nice old guy, but now he was getting me a little angry with his not so subtle looks in my direction. ‘We don’t even know if he was writing a review. All you found is a scrap of paper with some words on it. And by the way, don’t you know me well enough to know I’m not a killer?’
Seth’s face reddened and he looked down at the ground. ‘Well Josie, I knew you when you were a kid. But you been away all these years.’
‘I’m still the same person.’
‘She has a point about the review. Let’s see what it said again.’ Millie said.
‘It’s pretty obvious, look.’ Seth pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled to a picture of the paper he’d had in that bag.
He held it up and we all craned our necks and squinted to read it. It was just the very edge of a handwritten note with just the endings of a few words.
.... ull
.... ick
.... son
‘Those endings could go with lots of words,’ Millie said. ‘I want a copy of that. Can you text it to me?’
‘Me too,’ I said.
Seth looked uncertain.
‘There’s an apple pie in it for you if you text it to me.’ Millie turned to me. ‘I’ll text it to you after.’
Seth sighed. ‘I suppose it won’t do any harm.’
‘Good,’ Millie said. ‘Now, until we figure out what that note really says, we have a lot of clues that point to Tony Murano. How many clues do you have that point to Josie?’
Seth opened his mouth but I cut in. ‘Never mind, don’t answer that. This is what we have on Tony. His shoe print was under the window, Tony has a bad temper and Charles wrote a bad review about his lemon meringue pie.’
Mom nodded. ‘Why would Tony’s print be outside the window if he wasn’t climbing out and why would he be climbing out if he didn’t kill Charles?’
‘Maybe the print wasn’t from Tony,’ Seth said. ‘I don’t think you can tell for sure that print was from his shoe. And besides, it’s risky to go out of the window. And how did he get in and mess with the stairs without anyone noticing? It makes more sense that it was an inside job.’
A Twist in the Tail: An absolutely purrfect cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 1) Page 11
